The Rune Thief: Book Two of The Runed Series, page 1
The Rune Thief
B.C. FaJohn
Copyright © 2023 by B.C. FaJohn
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
Map
Act One
1. Ashes
2. Sorrowful Goodbye
3. Hatred
4. Homecoming
5. Moonlight
6. Private Invitation
7. Gruesome Discovery
8. King's Eve
9. Fireworks
10. Crowns
11. Secrets Uncovered
12. Savior
13. Wingman
14. Apothecary
15. Hide & Seek
16. A Slight Tickle
17. Mother
18. Trials of Blood
19. Game of Chase
Act Two
20. So Long
21. Liar's Price
22. Executions
23. Sticks & Stones
24. Sprite
25. New Realms
26. Librarians
27. No Longer
28. Our Revolution
29. Excuse
30. Nightmare
31. Familiar Foe
32. Bad Omens
33. A Little Taste
34. Footwork
35. Alleyways
36. A Terrible Time
37. Homebody
38. A Harsh Truth
39. Never Leave Again
40. Traitorous
41. Cruel Man
42. Oaths of Silence
43. Impossibility
44. Vows
45. Control
46. Rumor Has It
47. Sea Shanty
Act Three
48. Homesick
49. For Her
50. My Queen
51. Truly Dead
52. Pain
53. Cover Up
54. Sacrificed
55. Kingdom of Death
56. Politics
57. Gone
58. Helping Hand
59. Otherworldly
60. Blame Me
61. Need & Agony
62. Freedom
63. A Place Of...
64. Let Him Go
65. Do Not Doubt
66. Death's Kiss
67. Dark Prince
About the Author
Act One
Truthbringers
1
Ashes
The town crumbled.
Cateline dragged her feet against the loose gravel that fragmented from the stone pathways in Daggernest. Much of it was discolored with aged blood, a nearby man pouring buckets of water over it in a poor attempt at washing the red and brown stains away. They were helpless. The tavern was decrepit, burned, and held together only by a few pieces of wood that survived the fires. Cateline grazed her finger over the rough lumber, pieces of ash spewing into the air and covering her skin.
The house to the left looked as if it had been hit with a hammer twice its size, crumbled wood dangling off the thin strands that held it together. Cateline paused for an idle moment to listen to the way the exposed second floor ached with the wind. As her focus shifted back to the first floor, she saw a plush doll covered in ash. Cateline’s breath hitched in her throat as she approached it, leaning down to pick it up and rub some of the soot off its face. Charred, burned, ruined—and no child in sight to claim it. Lifting her head, she found a blackened crib with broken wooden railings scattered immediately beneath it. Her mouth went dry at the realization—at the consequence of war.
“We won’t be getting a drink from there anytime soon.” Melydi hollered to her, and when she turned around, she watched the fae lower her stare to the ground.
Despite the sadness in Percy’s midnight eyes, she let out a dry chuckle as she picked up some debris and threw it in a wagon. Cateline turned to them for a moment, blinking at their wild, translucent gray wings that sprawled from their backs. They were gorgeously terrifying—and, despite them quite possibly being some of the nicest people she had met here, they would always unnerve her.
Her eyes drifted beyond them, the castle capturing her attention with a frown. The headmistress claimed to be sending her strongest scholars in an attempt at protecting the throne while Janeris and his son were away, but Cateline thought it was futile. The king had to have abandoned it… Janeris was a coward, and if he never returned, the kingdom was most certainly a better place for it.
The strangest thing that tickled her mind was how no usurper took that throne… and if it wasn’t a coup d’etat, then Roen had every right to take what was his. Perhaps that was what Leolina was protecting against, or perhaps Roen cared far less about the crown of Traburg when it was in such a state, but she knew no kingdom would last without a ruler.
Her head whirled at the thought—though, that’s all it had been doing since she woke up in the infirmary a week ago. The world would spin on its side more than it was upright, and each time she took a step, she had to watch her feet, else she wouldn’t know which way was up and which was down.
Many left Traburg following the battle in fear of another attack… especially since they were missing their king and heir. However, there was one thing that haunted her more than the bloodshed, undead soldiers, and watching her dragon turn still right in front of her.
Each time she closed her eyes she saw his face, growling and snarling at her… telling her she should rot. When he shook her and bashed her head against the marble, she felt like she was out of her body and watching it happen from afar. Crying, screaming, begging for him to stop—but she had been frozen in terror. With an aching heart, she clutched at her amethyst necklace and almost wished herself away.
“Cateline?” Percy called. She opened her eyes, wide and wild, eventually focusing on the twin before nodding in response. “Are you quite all right?”
Cateline offered a smile. “Yes, just a headrush.”
After Percy’s brows furrowed together, pained, she motioned her head to the academy. “Go and rest. Your head still hasn’t healed.”
Cateline longed after the city of Daggernest, eyes flickering between the few remaining subjects that bustled about and tried to restore their plots of land and shops. Eventually, she sighed and retreated a step. “You’re right. I don’t want to push myself too hard yet… especially if we are going to travel soon.”
Mel simply hummed in response, and as Cateline turned, she caught sight of Varin patrolling the road above the hill. His gaze was set on the horizon just past her. He’d been covering that route each day, determined to find traitors. She often watched from her room when he took duty—which was usually more than the daylight could last—admiring how he made sure to stop every person that tried to enter the academy.
He was protecting a place that hadn’t been his home more than three years ago, and he did it with more loyalty than those who only knew Traburg. Cateline gulped and drew her hands behind her back, crawling up the steep hill before stopping in front of him.
His hair was messy, tousled to the side, and covered his forehead in a wavy swoop. His facial hair was somewhere between a stubble and a beard, growing nicely along his jaw. The tunic was loose-fitting and revealed the top part of his rune, and although the fighting was said and done with, it still had an idle glimmer to it.
He didn’t look at her, but she cleared her throat anyway. “Aren’t you going to ask for my identification?”
Varin glanced before shrugging, rolling his neck, and shifting to glance at the castle. “Aren’t you supposed to be bedridden?”
“You think I’m so weak. If I recall correctly, you were practically torn in half by Seraphine but were up and training the very next day.”
Varin merely smirked. He didn’t say anything else, so she moved past him and dug her nails into the meat of her palm. He had forgiven her under a technicality, and to be honest, she was surprised he even did that, but it wasn’t enough.
She had Thaddius and the twins who treated her as if she knew them all their life, but it wasn’t enough. The fae provided a unique lifestyle she would never be able to relate to, and although Thaddius was such a mountain of support throughout her wrongdoings, there was one thing that connected Varin and Cateline so terribly that he’d never have.
Their runes.
After sighing through her nostrils, she turned over her shoulder and stared at his back for an idle moment. Wondering if… nay, pining that he would turn and catch her.
“Varin,” she finally said. To her surprise, he turned to her head-on with a smoldering glare. It made her heart skip a beat under the heat of such intimidation, but she faced him completely before offering a smile. “Have you been okay? Since the battle, I mean.”
“Offering your pity again?” he retorted.
Cateline did her very best to conceal her discomfort at his bold harshness, but she was certain she failed if not simply for the blushing of her cheeks. “No. Quite the opposite, actually—you said it yourself the fight was not done. We have no clue when Aiora will turn up, and my father—”
His stare narrowed, practically stealing the air from her lungs, but she continued.
“—the king of Axulran is sure to strike again. We have a lot of work to do, and the fact that Aiora is against us means we are missing t
Varin smirked, eyes shooting her up and down before shrugging. “Once we find the third, then we will be fine. Aiora will stand no chance. Though, you still have a lot to learn before I’d ever consider you a mage.”
Cateline scoffed and turned on her heel, starting to storm up the path that led to the academy. Just as she tucked between some trees, Varin’s voice echoed.
“I’ll find you after my duties are done.”
Despite her anger, the weight lifted from her shoulders, and she continued on.
Cateline removed the bandage that was wrapped around her head, pieces of hair sticking to it and matting after she pried it off. She winced with each tug, and when the air touched the sensitive part of her skin, she hissed and closed her eyes tight. She convinced the nurses to stop coddling her, but now that she was starting to bandage herself, she missed their gentle hand.
A soft knock came from the door. Cateline angled her head, shifting in the seat of her vanity before they cracked it open. Alleyn’s head poked through, eyes trailing the dark room until landing on her. “May I come in, Sprite?”
She hummed in response, neither in confirmation nor denial, and started to brush the tangled strands of hair that fell in front of her face. He approached with quiet steps, standing behind to gaze at her through the mirror. His gilded irises were as deep and contemplative as they were in Axulran, constantly observing what her next move was. Now that she was older and knew what she was, part of her questioned whether he expected her powers to surface much younger than they did.
He served as a spy, as far as she was concerned. “What do you want?”
Alleyn grabbed the first aid she had been avoiding, silently asking for permission before tending to her wound. He first started off with alcohol that made her wince, fingers clutching at the fabric of her dress as tears threatened to spill. After swallowing her pride and blinking them away, she glared at him through the mirror.
Once he started to wrap the bandage around her head, he sighed. “Your wound isn’t healing as I would have hoped. Are you still applying the herbs each morning?”
Cateline nodded and lowered her stare.
Alleyn curled his lips into a frown and grabbed the brush, helping her untangle the back of her hair with a gentler hand than even the nurses. Perhaps the kindest touch she’d ever felt. “There is no way you can travel anywhere with this injury.”
Cateline’s heart ached. She wouldn’t let them continue this fight without her… not when part of it was against the man she once considered flesh and blood. “I’ll be fine.”
Alleyn smiled at her, a knowing expression flashing across his eyes before retreating to sit on the bed. “You always are.”
Cateline turned in the chair and pursed her lips into a thin line. “What is that place the headmistress told us about?”
His face went blank. “Nothing, now. The Fallen Kingdom is a telling name.”
“What was it before?” she pressed, leaning forward as her gaze narrowed.
He almost didn’t answer—she could see it in his eyes—but after a pensive sigh, he nodded. “Once, it was called the Ekata Kingdom. Sound familiar?”
Cateline blinked. “That was the name Leolina mentioned in reference to Seraphine.”
Alleyn nodded. “Yes, and her bloodline used to have powerful connections to that throne. The Ekata Kingdom was one of the most powerful places in all Denzethea—and, as a result, they used their influence to play the peacekeeper instead of the tyrant. Your father’s father loathed that. So, when the War of Mimicry was said and done, your grandfather did everything he could to topple the kingdom… going as far as utilizing dark magic to rot the very veins of the ground.”
Cateline gulped. “That’s possible?”
“Rumored so. I suppose it is, considering it happened before my very eyes, but I’d rather believe it to be myth.” With this, Alleyn smiled. Something about that enraged her.
“I want you to tell me more about the War of Mimicry, then. I saw Leolina’s face when she found out about the undead soldiers—it was… void. I have never seen her so defeated. I’d even go as far as say she gave up helping until Seraphine arrived.”
Alleyn raised his brow. “You’re just as bright as you were in Axulran, Sprite. I can show you if that’s really what you want to know.”
Cateline nodded, standing on her feet the second he did, and followed him out. They retreated to the first level, walked to the eastern wing, and unlocked a door that was all but forgettable. It was old, almost falling from its hinges, and the thickest layer of dust coated it. It was so easy to miss when the statues drew the eye away.
They walked up a winding set of stairs, arriving on the landing at the very top that was as forgotten as the door. It smelled of mildew, much as the library did, but this time it was overwhelming instead of comforting. There was a modest desk nestled in the center of the room, and a dozen dead plants scattered around.
Alleyn immediately darted to a bookshelf that crawled to the ceiling with bottles and vases stacked on top, out of reach. When his fingers grazed the spine of one of the books, the room illuminated and the plants sprung to life.
Her jaw went slack, but she knew better than to keep it that way. The room was waiting for his return.
“One-hundred years ago, the war rampaged… and most of its consequences are still evident today. Aiora can attest to it, as can Thaddius. Though, the Guildway family was much more fortunate than Aiora’s.”
Cateline scowled at the name before shifting her gaze to the journal he held. It had a dragon on the cover, and when he opened it and laid it flat on a table, she eyed each handwritten word from afar.
“I was still working here with Leolina, trying desperately to keep the peace between the three kingdoms. Eventually, it was a matter of the world’s involvement, and our hands were tied.” He licked his finger and turned a few pages before tapping it thrice, spinning it around, and gesturing for her to look.
When she approached, she read a short passage that described the undead soldiers and their masters—the mages that had turned against their own accord and desired to destroy magic and the ‘plague’ it caused. Airen’s grandfather, King Yuris, had appointed a mage by the name of Heryndel that helped level the Ekata kingdom.
He was described as the aristocrat of commoners, with a tongue of acid and a mind of darkness. He took many forms and names throughout his centuries of existence, and every time he came around, chaos surely followed. Those who had seen his wrath called him the Lamster of Death. Some even spoke of him as if he was not of this world.
“We called it mimicry because not only did our allies falsify their loyalties, but so did the dead… they imitated the living. Heryndel was executed the day the war ended, but in my opinion, it was a wonder how he was not destroyed during the war. That said, he is the reason Necromantic magic is banished.”
Cateline gulped, and she pushed the book back to him before lifting her stare, nodding. “You said you ruled Lighthelm with Leolina?”
“I helped found it.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t put much thought into his age—even as a child, she knew that elves lived thousands of years at a minimum. Often their deaths were at the hands of others, and not by natural causes. She’d go as far as to consider them immortal. Alleyn could be as old as the world itself, and Cateline would have been none the wiser.
“And you think that Aiora is working to… what? End all magic?”
Alleyn grinned. “No, but she is using that very magic as a vessel to gain power. Something Seraphine has sought to do for years. They both want to control it, but Aiora’s desire resides in revenge, and Seraphine’s resides in a prophecy.” Alleyn shifted, wiping some dust off the table before sighing. “But that is a conversation for an entirely different time. Have you eaten?”
Cateline frowned, taking a step back before shaking her head. “No.”
In fact, she hadn’t been able to stomach much food at all since waking. The crumbs of stale, moldy bread was more appealing than the idea of sipping soup and pretending everything was normal. But, despite the nauseating feeling in her stomach, it grumbled and urged her downstairs toward the feeding hall.
And she obeyed, leaving Alleyn in his study.
She sat across from Varin with a light plate of food, eyes not leaving him despite his own glued to his dish. Resting her hands flat against the table, she cleared her throat. “Varin, we have to talk about the runes.”
